


The Sweatshirt

by deathtouchwlw (deathtouch)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cute, Domestic Fluff, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22606660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathtouch/pseuds/deathtouchwlw
Summary: Femfeb 2020 | ShortficMei finds a cozy sweatshirt in Fareeha's closet.
Relationships: Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Mei-Ling Zhou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	The Sweatshirt

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd! all mistakes are my own.

The sweatshirt was Fareeha’s, but it fit Mei like it was meant for her. 

Mei was a bigger girl, there was no denying it. She wore large sizes. Most of Fareeha’s clothes didn’t fit her. Not the mesh shorts she wore to bed, or the compression shirts she wore to work out. This sweatshirt, though? It was perfect. 

It was big to begin with, oversized so that it hung easily on Fareeha’s muscled frame. It had been broken in over the years. Worn and washed and worn and washed over and over again. There were frayed spots on the cuffs of the sleeves. Some of the decal letters were cracked and peeling off. The pouch pocket had loose stitching on one of the corners.

Its imperfections made it all the more comfortable, though. It was lived in. Loved. 

Fareeha had gotten it in college. The logo was of her alma mater. She had worn it all through those four years of school. She couldn’t take it to boot camp, but it was one of the first items shipped to her as soon as she was allowed packages from home. She wore it through multiple tours of duty. 

She used it bunched up as a pillow on her bunk at night, and during long plane rides so she didn’t have to lay her head against the hard fuselage walls. She let it get buried at the bottom of her hamper while she was home, refinding it after finally getting around to doing her laundry again weeks later. She wore it on the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table with a syndicated 80s action movie on TV. She wore it to bed on chilly nights, keeping herself warm under her weighted blanket. 

Then Mei found it. 

After running into each other at work. After slightly awkward lunch dates in the cafeteria where they weren’t quite comfortable enough with each other to be themselves yet. After romantic dates that went well; dinner and movies and soft kisses on the front step just before saying goodnight. 

After being invited up to Fareeha’s apartment for the first time. After a nightcap, clinking drinks together in the kitchen. After the kissing on the couch got heated, breathing hot and desperate into each other’s mouths. After stripping off their clothes, leaving a trail from the living room to Fareeha’s bedroom. 

After Mei came, whimpering, with Fareeha’s fingers deep inside of her. 

After all that, Mei woke up the next morning unsure of where her outfit had ended up. She opened up the door to Fareeha’s closet and found the one thing she thought might fit. This oversized and well-loved sweatshirt, worn in all the right ways and impossibly comfortable. 

It was snug. It hugged Mei tight, showing off just how curvy she was. The school logo stretched wide across her big breasts. It held her like a hug. 

In just the sweatshirt and a pair of panties Mei had wandered into the rest of the apartment. Fareeha, pouring coffee from the pot into a cup, stopped to stare. Lost in the sight of Mei looking beautiful - sleep and sex mused, sporting that sweater - Fareeha overpoured until the coffee came flowing over the sides of her cup, spilling, pooling on the counter. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Mei murmured, tugging on the hem of the sweatshirt. 

No, no. Fareeha didn’t mind at all. 

“Looks good on you.” 

Mei wore it home that night. Buried her nose in the fabric, basking in the sweet scent of Fareeha that had been baked into it over the years. She wore it to bed, snuggling happily into the softness of it. She dreamed of Fareeha touching her and kissing her all over. Her chest, her arms, her soft ticklish belly. Her shoulders, and her back. 

Touching and kissing her everywhere the sweater could touch. 

Then it became Mei’s favorite sweater. Her favorite thing to wear to bed. Her favorite thing to wear around the house while she scrolled through work related data on her tablet. Her favorite thing to wear to the lab after hours and on weekends when everyone else was gone. She always had more work to do, and if no one was around to see the way she was dressed she might as well wear her favorite sweater. 

She gave it back, of course. Brought it over to Fareeha’s apartment a few weeks later, folded neatly in her arms. Freshly washed, no longer smelling of her new girlfriend.

Then a cycle began. Fareeha wearing it, washing it, leaving it in her closet. Mei coming over for the night, making love to her, and stealing off with the sweater the next morning only to return it again some later day. Fareeha’s expression always turned so soft, so full of endearment when she saw Mei wearing it. 

This cycle continued even when summer came and the hot weather with it. It continued even after Mei started spending every night with Fareeha. It continued even though she had an overnight drawer cleared out to use with a spare outfit stored there. It continued even after she moved in and brought all her clothes and things with her. 

It continued when Fareeha got deployed for a six-month mission overseas. 

Mei curled up on Fareeha’s bed, their bed now, in Fareeha’s apartment, their apartment now, in Fareeha’s sweater, their sweater now, and cried the first night she spent alone. She didn’t like feeling this lonely, but the soft fabric clung to her, hugging her, reminding her what Fareeha smelled like. It made her feel a tiny bit better. 

It was a hard six months. They talked on the phone as much as they could, and video called one another often. Mei sent packages of essentials and little things she thought Fareeha might enjoy. She packed up the sweater after she’d been wearing it nearly every day for a month straight and sent it to Fareeha overseas. 

In the next video call Fareeha was wearing it. Mei’s heart skipped a beat in her chest just seeing the way the loose neck hung, showing off her collar bones. 

“It smells just like you, baby.” Fareeha smiled happily. “I can’t wait to come home.” 

Fareeha sent it back again a month later. It didn’t exactly smell fresh, but Mei didn’t care. She hugged it to her chest, trying not to cry because she missed her girlfriend so much. 

When those impossible six months were up, Mei went to meet Fareeha at the airport. She was nervous and excited and more than ready to see the woman she loved again. Fareeha came off the plane in fatigues, carrying her bag in one hand. She was struck with sudden emotion seeing Mei again, like her heart was melting and singing and thundering in her chest all at once. 

She dropped her bag and wrapped her arms around Mei, burying her face in her shoulder. In the soft fabric of the sweatshirt. Fareeha breathed in deep before lifting Mei up and spinning her around in a hug that made her laugh. 

That night the sweater was abandoned on the floor. Rumpled. Stripped off. Dropped and left to lay. It had carried their relationship for six months despite the distance. It had earned a night off. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm taking femslash february suggestions year round  
> send requests or prompts ➝ [here](https://curiouscat.me/deathtouch)  
> femfeb '20 masterpost ➝ [here](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx/status/1223794127822839808?s=20)  
> follow me on twitter ➝ [here](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)  
> thanks for reading ✩°｡⋆


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